


two can be fun (three can be better)

by santanico



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elementary college!AU. In which Joan is a senior and a dorm RA, Irene Adler makes a lot of trouble and then goes through even more in order to seduce Joan into not being a tattle-tale. Of course, Sherlock Holmes is involved somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two can be fun (three can be better)

Marcus Bell lives on the second floor of the co-ed dorm and he’s a great guy – well put together, an honors student, and otherwise rather ordinary. He’s quiet and Joan appreciates him because he always thanks her after a hall meeting or when she sends out an e-mail with information. Polite, well-mannered, and never causes any trouble.

Which is why she’s surprised when she’s watching a movie in the peace of her room and she opens the door after an angry knock and sees Marcus scowling at her like something incredibly awful has been happening.

“Marcus?” she asks worriedly.

“You have to stop her,” he grits out.

“Stop…who?”

“Irene. Adler.”

Joan raises an eyebrow. Irene Adler is a quiet girl, a sophomore, and Joan doesn’t know her very well because the dorm is rather large and Irene lives on the third floor and rarely attends hall meetings unless it’s strictly necessary. But she’s always been at least marginally polite, leaving Joan a note outside of her door in pretty handwriting before ditching the meetings. Joan’s never worried about it, because Irene, like the rest of the students, is an adult who can handle herself. Joan’s not getting paid to babysit, after all.

“What’s she up to?” Joan leans against her bedframe and examines Marcus more closely. He’s clearly irritable, tapping his foot quickly on the floor, arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s so…” He pauses, as if trying to come up with a more eloquent way to voice his complaint. “Goddamn loud.”

Joan laughs and Marcus lets out an exasperated sigh. “I think she has someone living with her.”

“Does she have a single?” Joan asks absently. She should maybe know these things…or maybe not.

“Yeah.”

“Ohh…”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Do you know who?”

“It’s a guy,” Marcus growls, sounding more annoyed than before. “I hate to bother you, Joan, I know there probably isn’t much you can do, but please…I think I know who it is but I’m not sure, and it’d just be – it’d just be really great if you could make them…shut up?”

Joan cringes. “Sorry. But doesn’t she live on the third floor and aren’t you on the second?”

“I’m right under her room, I’ve come to realize.”

Joan cringes again, folding her arms over her chest. She nods. “I got it, Marcus. And I’ll deal with her, alright? I’ll try to get to it…tomorrow.” She sighs. She has no idea this woman’s class schedule, so it might not be the easiest task to achieve. Even if she could get ahold of Irene’s classes, catching her still might be trouble.

Marcus grunts, not sounding pleased. “She’s there right now, if you really must know.”

Joan smiles weakly. “I’ll check it out.”

Joan finishes her movie before climbing up onto the third floor. Irene Adler’s room is 311, right above room 211, where Marcus Bell lives. Joan never really understood why she was an RA, considering how much she hates confrontation. Maybe it’s her organizational skills – not that she’s ever had to worry about disciplining anyone before. Mostly she has to fill out paperwork and make sure that she’s paying enough attention to her specific quadrant of residents that they like her. Irene isn’t one of them, and she’s only met the other woman once or twice, exchanged smiles with her on the sidewalk maybe. 

_Should be fun_ , Joan thinks, wishing she was in her pajamas and eating ice cream and watching reruns of her favorite sitcoms. If only Marcus had just needed his room unlocked after forgetting to unlock it himself when he went to the bathroom. Things would be much easier that way.

But Joan has a job to do, and no one likes dealing with the other RAs because they’re uncooperative and self-centered. Joan sometimes wonders if they even get paid at the end of the year when they’re so terrible, but she supposes the school can’t exactly recharge for room and board as long as the RA did their technical duties.

She knocks three times. “Hi Irene, it’s Joan!” she half-yells through the door, but it’s quiet. Almost too quiet. She waits a moment.

“Oh. Hello.”

Joan jumps and turns. Irene Adler is standing behind her wearing a brilliant smile, her blonde hair wrapped up in a towel. She’s wearing a bathrobe too, and open-toed flats. 

“I’m…” Joan falters. “I’m so sorry.” She can feel her face going red as she backs into the wall, but the space between her and Irene is tight, and when he back hits the wall there still isn’t much space between them.

Irene smiles pleasantly, towel tucked snuggly above her left breast. Just enough cleavage has been exposed that Joan can’t help but notice, and her face burns.

It’s not as if she’s never seen a resident half-naked before, but this time feels different – it feels like she’s been caught.

Irene simply steps closer and turns the doorknob, stepping into her room. She holds the door open with her hip. “Would you like to come in? I am wearing underwear.” Her voice is crystal clear and calm, and she smiles serenely at Joan, who is, of course, blushing like a fifteen year old. 

“No, I’ll – I’ll just come back later,” she manages. “Sorry to bother you.”

She’s about to leave but Irene interrupts her. “Can’t have that! Stay there.” Irene smiles and closes the door and Joan finds she can’t move, even if she wanted to. A minute later Irene opens the door again in a razorback tank and shorts. She’s very obviously not wearing a bra and her damp hair hangs over her shoulders the way a supermodel’s might. She’s still wearing the cute flats. “Please, come in.”

Joan swallows and steps inside. Irene’s room is perfectly organized, not a paper out of place. It’s clean, too, unlike most dorms, the tile floor almost sparkling and even the walls look washed, though maybe that’s just because whoever painted them over last year did a good job. Irene is clearly rather meticulous – even her bed is made. Her dorm barely looks like a dorm, and it draws Joan in easily.

“Sit down,” Irene says idly, gesturing at the desk. Joan is following Irene’s orders but she barely notices it. She sits.

Irene picks her towel up from where it had been lying carefully on the bed and she begins to rub her hair through it. “So what can I do for you, Miss Watson?”

“I…” Joan frowns. “I received a complaint from another resident.” She puts on her RA voice, straightening up. She then realizes that Irene has positioned them so that she’s in a position of inferiority, and she frowns deeper, standing up. Irene is a touch shorter than her, and as Joan rolls her shoulders back, she feels more confident. “Of someone else…living in your room?”

“Ohh,” Irene says quietly, then nods. “That’s odd.”

Joan raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying the allegation is false? Because if so…”

Irene cuts her off. “No, no, the complaint is legitimate.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and purses her lips. “I just hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

Joan stays quiet, watching Irene curiously. She should be spouting off rules and telling Irene that if it doesn’t stop she’ll have to report Irene to residence life, and that housing someone else in her dorm could get Irene expelled – but for whatever reason, she doesn’t.

“Now, you have to understand – Joan, is it? – you have to understand that I mean no harm.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joan replies quietly as Irene steps closer. She’s got a smoldering expression, eyes full of darkness and fiery coals. She lifts a hand and her spindly fingers touch Joan’s jaw. Irene tilts her head and smiles. “But…rules are rules.”

“Bend the rules.”

Joan licks her lips.

Irene kisses them.

It isn’t even that Joan had ever been attracted to Irene before this moment, but there’s something about a closed door and an unfamiliar room that keeps her from refusing, from pushing back. Irene’s tongue is slick and powerful, one hand guiding Joan to Irene’s chest by the bar. Joan closes her eyes automatically and kisses back, horrified with herself but unable to resist. Irene is close, incredibly warm and smelling of apples and mangoes, her breasts pressing against Joan’s in a terrible, awful manner.

They fit so snuggly together, and then Irene is pulling away, twisting their bodies so that Joan half-stumbles toward the bed. Irene is grinning but it’s hard to tell if her expression could be considered a grin when the beautiful curve of her mouth is so much more than that.

“Get on the bed,” Irene demands and Joan follows the instruction despite her own disbelief. Her shoes are incredibly inconvenient, clunky heels that had been closest to her door when she had finished the movie. Her skirt also seems impractical in the moment, and she resists the urge to just pull off her shirt.

God – she really shouldn’t be here. But Irene has a face like a coy cat, ready to pounce, and suddenly she’s on top of Joan, kissing her mouth again before trailing her lips down Joan’s neck to her clavicle. Joan shudders, hips arching up, but Irene holds them down with strong hands.

Joan squirms and half-yelps as the door opens. She and Irene are still tangled together and she gapes.

Sherlock Holmes, a ratty senior who never goes to class, is watching them with what could only be described as curiosity.

Joan’s jaw stays dropped and she looks at Irene in time to see her roll her eyes as she sits back. Joan’s cocoa butter chapstick is all messed up and she can see where it smeared onto Irene’s mouth. She tries really hard not to think about how nice that had been, looking back at Sherlock.

“Ahem.” Sherlock clears his throat, gentleman-like, and closes the door behind him. “So. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry, Joan.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Irene starts to grin. “And you’re not supposed to be in bed with students in your dorm, but look. At. You.” Irene leans over Joan playfully and touches a kiss to her nose, popping open a button on her cardigan. Joan is left at a loss for words.

“This is blackmail,” she mumbles pathetically. Sherlock and Irene look at each other and shrug. “God.”

Sherlock chuckles. “You could turns us in and then we’d all get in trouble. It’d be quite a hassle. We’ve all made mistakes, yes? Or you could be quiet and enjoy our company.”

Joan gives him her most disbelieving look. “Enjoy…your company?”

Irene trails her fingers down Joan’s arm, sending a shiver up Joan’s spine. She’s too close for appropriate comfort, and Joan finds herself squirming under both of their gazes, but she still can’t find it in herself to get away.

“I want in.”

Irene grins and claps her hands.

“We’re going to have so much fun together.”


End file.
